


Our Wings Are Burning

by Morgan_Inkeye



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Bottom Melkor, Caring Mairon, Cuddling, Dark Lord With Feelings, Emotions, M/M, Melkor-centered, Some Fluff, Tears, Teasing, a bit of dirty talk, because reasons, soft smut, top Mairon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-17
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2019-04-24 09:13:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14352453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morgan_Inkeye/pseuds/Morgan_Inkeye
Summary: There was more than sheer desire - he always suspected it.





	Our Wings Are Burning

**Author's Note:**

> Hello ! Thank you for stopping by.   
> Prepare for some angst, a confused Melkor, and love. (Smut too, but it goes without saying.)  
> I hope you enjoy it :)

   Once again, the familiar creak of his chamber's door awoke him. Though he could distinctly hear footsteps closing in, he faked being sound asleep.

The mattress slightly sank in, and a scent, which he knew all too well, soon came to him – spice and iron, with a subtle dash of leather. A fragance as intoxiacting as the caress of delicate fingers, tracing up his arm to his shoulder.

He refused to turn around just yet. Here, laying on his side, he was curious to see how his cunning Maia would proceed.

Would he kiss his nape, whisper at his ear ? Or would he simply maneuver him on his back, and crown his slender shape atop of his hips ?

A grin grew on Melkor's lips. Mairon quite enjoyed riding him, lately. The first time they had tried, it had caused his Maia great pain, yet now he seemed to favour it above other positions. This way Mairon could control the pace, and assert his dominance.

This notion of being submissive should have wounded the Vala's pride, even just a little. Yet it was not the case.

There was nothing more delectable than to behold Mairon upon him, glowing in glory. He took great enjoyment in holding him there, hands on his sensuous hips...

His grin stretched wider as he felt sharp fingernails tracing their path down his side, under the sheets. A pleasant shiver crept up his spine, at the top of which Mairon's lips pressed a soft kiss. He let out a low sigh, barely audible. Melkor let him tease for a moment. He could not hold Mairon back from putting his skills to practise, could he ?   
His Maia's second hand went to his scalp, and he gently tugged at the raven hair, not to hurt, but just enough to _excite._ His other hand had now gone to his hip, and was tickling tiny circles there, as it progressed to the inside of Melkor's thigh.

 

''I would be offended if you still were sleeping by now,'' Mairon sighed at his ear. ''Perhaps I should go a bit further ?'' he playfully asked, grazing at his member, already swollen by their little game. ''My dear, dear Master...''

 

Mairon chuckled as his Lord shifted, closing his legs.

 

''You are taking risks, little Maia,'' Melkor growled low. He finally turned around, facing his lovely tormentor. ''I could punish you.''

 

''You could indeed,'' Mairon smirked. ''Yet is it not what you always say, but never do ?''

 

Melkor ignored this, reaching down to palm Mairon's hand, and took it away from his groin.

 

''Perhaps I enjoy it,'' he sighed in response, feeling his chest clench uncomfortably. ''I maybe _like_ when you toy with me.''

 

Mairon's amused smirk faded away, and for a few embarrassing seconds, they stared at each other in silence.

There probably was something, here and now, that Melkor should have done. He should have told Mairon to go away, or at least to get off him. Yet instead he pulled him closer, still holding his hand tightly in his own. He brought it up to his chest, and to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss on his slim fingers.

Bewilderment ghosted upon Mairon's face, as Melkor intertwined their fingers.

He _should_ have told him to disappear. He had to put an end to those filthy nights, to this nonsense... Yet as it had sadly become a habit now, he waved his reason away.

He let go of his hand, only to bring his own to Mairon's cheek, stroking it lovingly. Their faces so close, and eyes still locked, made something jump in the Vala's chest. He smiled tenderly as he kissed him.

Many times had they kissed, devouring each other's mouth in their heated embrace, but _this_ was different. It was neither carnal nor avid. It was gentle, almost hesitant. There was no lustful desire there – only something Melkor could not put his finger on.

But as Mairon did not respond, he pulled back. He sighed, casting his eyes down. Melkor laid on his back, staring up at the ceiling.

 

'Forget it,'' he ordered. He felt terrible.

 

Melkor would have poorly known his Maia, if he expected him to nod and obey.

 

''I will not,'' he declared, with a somewhat frustrated voice. ''Why should I ? Do you think you made a mistake ?''

 

''You need not know it,'' Melkor snapped. ''You should better correct this tone of yours, and remember your place.''

 

His own words oddly hurt him. Yet what else could he say ? How could he explain something _he_ did not even understand ? Why he had had this sudden impulse, this _need_ to press a tender kiss on Mairon's lips, he did not know.

All he was certain of was that once again, his behaviour was unlikely of himself. Whenever Mairon was around him, or in his thoughts, he acted uncannily.

Even though in the first days of their relationship he had thought it _right_ , it all seemed wrong now. He had planned to turn it to his advantage, and to dominate his Maia as every Lord worthy of this name should.

But the fire of Mairon could not be tamed, and he had burnt himself in attempting to master him. He had lost himself in his Maia's flames, and _he_ was the one to have been turned docile.

And contrary to what he had hoped, Mairon had put no spell on him. He had become addicted, with no aid but his foolish heart's. He had developed strange feelings for his _servant_ , and it was too late to deny it.

Mairon huddled close to him, resting his head upon his strained heart. Melkor hesitantly wrapped an arm around him, holding him even tighter to his chest. _Never_ had they done this.

 

''Tell me what torments you, my Master,'' Mairon kindly demanded. ''I promise not to answer anything if you wish me not to. I simply want to ease your burden.''

 

A burden it was indeed, and what a shameful one.

There were no rational words he could use to define _this_ , this heavy weight that rent his heart open. And it saddened him, though he ignored why.

He was not expected to express feelings, and he feared Mairon's reaction. His Maia would undoubtedly disregard him for this. After all, was he not the Dark One, Mightiest of All, whom Mairon had chosen to follow for his power ? His Maia would lose all faith in him.

 

And he would be right to ! What huge diappointment would such a confession bring ! Mairon would only shake his head, and mock his pathetic weakness.

 

He had thought this smothering burden would come to pass, with time.

As the nights with Mairon came one after another, this unbearable _need_ to have him close should have faded away. He had thought he was going to grow tired of him, and that this weight on his heart would thinen and die. Yet it was the whole reverse, and with difficulty, Melkor had understood there was _more_ than sheer desire.

How could he explain it all, while avoiding to sound ridiculous ? He could not – there was no way he could keep up appearances.

Mairon had left Valinor to follow He Who Arises In Might, not to end up with a dark copy of Manwë.

 

''If I say anything,'' Melkor declared at last, ''I risk to lose your faith.''

 

''My Lord,'' Mairon chuckled, ''Have I not pledged myself to you ? Whatever hardship and humiliation I must go under... I have sworn my existence to you. I am yours.''

 

Melkor stared at him, taken aback by those last words. He knew Mairon was devoted... But humiliation ? Was it what he submitted to, every night ?

 

''I never meant to harm you. Yet if our nights are so degrading for you, I must not be doing as I should,'' he breathed out.

 

But Mairon suddenly looked up, and vigorously shook his head.

 

''I was not referring to this,'' he exclaimed. ''What I meant, is that I will ever be by your side. No matter what is said of us, or of me by our enemies, I shall never drift away from you.'' he propped himself up on one elbow, and looked down at his Master. He gave him a beaming smile.

''Always will I hold you in high esteem.''

 

Those were pretty words to say. Yet would he hold to them ?

It all was irrelevant. Was he not a dark and dominant Lord, to whom none could oppose or destroy ? Was he not supposed to be devoid of emotions ? Mairon would discover him to be nothing but weak, and crushed down by uncertainty.

He should react as he was expected to. He should be outraged towards his Maia – was he not the one who had roused such feelings in him, after all ?

It all was Mairon's fault. He had to send him away, never to see him again, then finally could he embrace the Dark One he was supposed to be.

He gathered up all willpower he had, and looked aside.

 

''Go away.''

 

Of course Mairon had nothing of it, and putting his slim hands on each side of his Master's head, he leant on for a kiss.

Instead of pushing him away – what his mind _shouted_ him to do, he simply held him there. He allowed his shame to run free, disguised as burning tears.

He knew Mairon could see this ridiculous surge of emotion, despite the dim light. His Maia deepened the kiss in response, and Melkor forsook himself to it, embracing Mairon as tightly as he could.

At this point, Melkor only wished this fire to turn him to ashes.

What was there even left to salvage ? _Pride ?_ There was nothing such anymore. He was miserable, and he wept openly.

Mairon would eventually refuse to come back, after having seen him in such a way. His oath to serve him probably had boundaries, and _this_ was obviously beyond them. It most likely was their final lamenting kiss.

If only he had behaved. If only he had resisted his abasing desires, and never allowed Mairon's lips to caress his own.

 

''I shall disobey,'' Mairon admitted, breaking the kiss. ''For I know my God needs me.''

 

Melkor looked away, not feeling capable of meeting those haunting eyes. He was pitiful.

 

''Look at my face,'' he spat out. ''Do you see _God_?''

 

Mairon stared at his Master, frowning. He pursed his lips.

 

''I see one who has been wronged,'' he declared with a hint of anger. ''I see the Master I chose to follow, neither for his perfection nor his purity, but for his ideals and designs.'' He clenched his grip on Melkor's scalp, forcing him to look at him.  
''I see He whom _they_ call evil and deceitful, for He desires domination over what is his own to govern. Despair and bewilderment I see in You, whom _I_ call my God.''  
He brushed his tears away with his thumbs, tenderly looking at him.   
''And in those tears,'' he resumed in a hushed whisper, ''I see the beauty of your pain. I rejoice, for you allow _me_ to see it, and no one else.''

 

Melkor clenched his jaw, trying to bite back another sorrowful flow. He gently pulled at Mairon's shoulders, embracing him tighty, pressing his Maia's full weight on him. He wished to let this fire dry out every tear in him, and heal his forlorn heart. Mairon's words whirled in his head, and closing his eyes, he focused only on them.

 

''None of _them_ can compare with you,'' Mairon murmured. ''They who call you a wretch, unloving and unloved, cannot even pretend to know the faintest thing about your ways.''

 

''An unloved wretch,'' Melkor chuckled bitterly. ''Are they truly so wrong ?''

 

''They deprived you of honours, exiled you for you saw things differently. They cast you down, and here was their mistake – for you can _rise,''_ he growled.   
He sat up, looking down at his Master, and posed his hand upon his heart, feeling its beating for a moment.

''Here,'' he resumed, ''lie your power and will. Your love is so great they fail to see it. For _greed_ they mistook your adoration towards your creations, and they smothered you in scorn.''

 

Mairon leant down, his hand still palming his Lord's chest.

 

''Let me take care of you, my Master,'' he demanded in a murmur, just against his lips. ''Let me show the same adoration _I_ have for you. I can take away your sorrow.''

 

Melkor answered not, yet his eyes spoke clearer than words. He only wished to give himself up for good, to offer himself whole to _him_ , his cursed passion embodied. He gazed at his Maia, cupping his delicate face with both hands.

 

''Do you love me ?'' he asked miserably.

 

As to answer him Mairon took one of his hands, and cradling it in his own, crossed their fingers. He held them above Melkor's head, kissing him without restraint.

 

''Trust me, my Master,'' he muttered. ''You only need _focusing_.''

 

Oh yes, he trusted him, and blindly. This command was no trouble to follow, and he complied flawlessly.

Each kiss, every burning caress of Mairon's lips or fingers was igniting his senses, and numbing them at once. Progressively, all intrusive thoughts died away.

 

With patience and delicacy, Mairon maneuvered his Master on his stomach, and settled himself behind him. His slim hands were holding his hips, red fingernails slightly digging in the skin, and he was giving the pace.

Using all the time he needed, Mairon finally took him.  
What was that, in the Vala's voice ? Melkor could barely control his sighs and unlordly moans, as every inch of his body responded. Mairon gradually increased the rhythm, ever so careful, so respectful _.  
_ It felt grandiose, though unmistakably painful. How come Mairon was so _good_ at this – at making him break so deliciously, so perfectly ? His Maia was leading the dance with furious passion, keeping to his word.

He felt Mairon shifting, bending down to place his lips just at his ear, only making it all worse _,_ in the most _blissful_ way possible. His burning breath was sending shivers through Melkor's whole body. And the faint moans, that Mairon was letting out as he thrust deep, made his vision blank.   
His Maia was nibbling, licking, tickling his sensitive ear with cruelty, reveling in the response.

 

''Tell me how it feels,'' he purred, rolling his hips lasciviously. He angled himself differently, making Melkor clench around him.

''I want to hear your divine voice _shaking_.''

 

Melkor only sighed, clinging to the sheets, as Mairon resumed a steadier pace.

 

''Are you unable to even _mutter_ , my Master ?'' he teased. ''You should have told me you craved to be fucked so fervently. I would have ravaged you earlier.''

 

The Vala glared at him from his inconvenient angle.

 

''You should– ah... watch your tongue,'' he managed to say, even though he meant nothing of it.

 

_Yes_ , he wanted to scream, _keep on, my dear._

 

Mairon's fist clenched at the root of his hair, lifting his head up. His skillful tongue traced up from his nape to his ear.

 

''I know you enjoy this insolent tongue of mine,'' he moaned. ''You can have it, and myself anytime you want. Whenever you need your personal whore to screw your body thoroughly, I will gladly put myself to work.''

 

''It will not be too frequent,'' he grunted, though a wide smirk had taken place on his features.

 

To this Mairon clicked his tongue, and moved his hips in short, deep motions. He let his Master's head fall back on the pillow, and reached below his divine body.

Melkor muffled his surprised moan in the sheets, desperately attempting to hold himself back from spilling, yet Mairon's so wickedly _talented_ fingers were stronger than his will.

His whole body clenched painfully, every muscle tensing at once. He could not recognize his own voice.   
Mairon's breath became erratic as he carried him through it, until his own release hit him. He moaned at his Master's ear, buried deep inside of him.

Melkor was lost in this haze of violent pleasure. It was assaulting him, and his oversensitive flesh. Without shadow of a doubt, it felt greater than he had imagined. Slowly his muscles started to relax, and as Mairon withdrew to lay aside of him, a cold chill invaded him.

He looked at his Maia, whose breath was heavy, and lips adorned in a satisfied smile. Mairon turned his head to him. He opened his arms, inviting him to huddle against him, and Melkor did.   
He nestled himself close to his Maia's heaving chest, and sighed in contentment as a gentle kiss was posed on his forehead.   
Melkor kept his eyes shut, savouring each waning sensation. He was exhausted.

 

''How was it ?'' Mairon inquired, concerned. ''I have to apologize for my language. I got a bit carried away.''

 

Melkor smiled up at him, reaching above to stroke his cheek.

 

''You held to your word,'' he sighed. ''You truly made me lose hold. I guess it all was part of your role.''

 

Mairon muttered a _good._  
  


''You need not staying here,'' Melkor resumed after a few seconds. ''In this uncomfortable – and I believe, embarrassing position.''

 

''Embarrassing ?'' Mairon frowned. ''My Master, I swear I could not be more at ease. Yet if you wish me to go,'' he resigned as he began to move, slipping away.   
  


But Melkor took his arm, holding him back without a word. He switched their position, clasping him in his embrace.

 

_Stay here now_ , he thought. _Stay here all the time from now. I need you here_.

 

If he were to let him go, those parasite thoughts would attack him again – _wretch, unloving, unloved_ , and this night with Mairon would only fuel his hatred towards his own weakness.

But weakness was it truly ? In this moment he only felt strong, and safe.

He clung to Mairon, inhaling his scent with full lungs. Here, wrapped in this comforting warmth, he was protected. He reached to cradle Mairon's hand, entwining their fingers. His Maia sighed in glee, curling up further against him.   
  


''Sleep now, my Master,'' Mairon whispered. ''I will watch on you.''

 

He held him tightly, lovingly, lulled by his soothing presence. As he began to drift away, he thought he heard words, so faintly spoken. _Yes, I love you,_ they said. But he took them as a mere illusion of his mind.

For the rest of this night, neither hatred nor doubt found its way into his thoughts.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I live for Melkor bottoming sometimes. I hope you found it to your liking.  
> I would love to know what you thought. Please leave me a comment, it helps me greatly ! :3  
> Thank you again for reading !
> 
> (If you would like to see some of my art, I am on Tumblr @morgan--inkeye.)


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